Why is it that we always yearn for things that are just out of our reach? You are born with naturally curly hair so the desire for a straight, unfrizzy mane becomes your lifelong mission. You’re blessed with your mother’s petite form, but spend nights dreaming of lean, gazelle-like legs.
How is it that the laws of physics haven’t added the one law that has been proven true time and time again; that is, what we want or like is so far from what the bounty nature has left us with?
On the one hand we can chalk it up to societal styles and pressures. What society deems as acceptable is instilled in us from the time we start crawling around. Our moral natures find a mold in the behavior of those around us, our parents and close family. The foundation is laid but it is tweaked and trussed the more we go out into the world, interact with others, and mature into adulthood.
Yet, I think our desires stem from our innate self as well. Sure, we are corralled into the notion of the “in crowd,” but it comes down to our own free will to decide how we act in certain situations. There is a reason we are the highest order of species on the planet, for the simple fact that we reason, rationalize and think things through.
Our wants and needs are indeed influenced by what we’ve seen and heard in the world around us, but I like to think we are more evolved that that. In an age where science has found biochemical links between our compassionate moral natures in gene codes, I wonder if there aren’t any genes linked to a person’s infatuations, addictions and passions. Wouldn’t it be peculiar if one’s addiction to eating a cold stick of butter could be explained by a trait coded by specific genes? (Now, now, I only indulged I this habit one very hot summer when I was 6 or 7).
A lightning bolt illuminates
A droplet of rain lingers
A rock of hail knocks sense into the senseless
A blade of grass lies in wait for the whir of the mower,
Ushering in spring with the finest of traditions.
The sun’s rays envelopes the faint-hearted
The moon’s glow moves onlookers into nostalgia
An afternoon breeze whips the tendrils of your hair
Straight into your eyes and just for a moment you stand
Blind to expectations.
The crashing waves emulate the flow and ebb
Of every argument you’ve ever had.
The greatest cure for all the world’s ailments
Lies in the perfume of the spring showers.
Just take a whiff and lay all troubles to rest.